


You're a Wizard, Dean.

by MayaAodhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: HarryPotter!Supernatural, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Ravenclaw!Castiel, Slytherin!Dean, supernaturalau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The golden boy of Slytherin, Dean Winchester is failing Potions. But he has a secret ambition. So he asks the nerdy Ravenclaw in the class for help. </p>
<p>Castiel Novak would prefer to have nothing to do with the popular Winchester. </p>
<p>But when he hears why Dean wants to pass Potions, he agrees to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set fifteen years after the events of Voldemort. Dean would have been a toddler during those events.

“Damn it!” Garth swore as he dropped in the final ingredient and instead of the mix turning a pale violet, it smoked and went black. “I swear I had it that time!”

Dean sighed, resting his chin on his hand. The professor was going to fail them. Even with the preferential treatment the guy gave Slytherin, he couldn’t look over the fact that their potion looked like an ink spill. Garth sat down dejectedly, his grimy Slytherin robes billowing around him.

“Don’t worry, Garth. I have an idea.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder, as his gaze rested on the industrious figure in the robes of Ravenclaw. Castiel Novak was bent over, scribbling in his book, the potion in his cauldron the perfect shade of purple. Oh yeah. He had a plan alright.

Dean waited for Castiel outside the library, leaning against one of the solid columns, fidgeting with his wand. When the doors swung open, Dean straightened, craning his neck to see over the array of students leaving. The yellow and reds of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff second years tumbled over one another like puppies. When they saw a prefect of Slytherin standing outside, they hushed and scrambled past him, giving a wide berth, before running off.

Dean was watching them with amusement and was faintly startled when a tall boy in Ravenclaw blue paused beside him.

“I didn’t think Dean Winchester even knew where the library was.” His voice was startlingly low. The boyish tones Dean vaguely remembered from first year was a thing of the past. “Shouldn’t you be off practicing Quidditch? Or roaming the halls terrorising first years?” His tone was dripping with faint derision.

Dean glanced around in surprise, fumbling with his wand before ramming it into the pocket of his robe. The direct blue gaze was making him suddenly nervous. _He was never nervous, damn it! He was Dean fucking Winchester._

“Hilarious, Novak.” He took a breath. _Not a good start_. “I was waiting for you.”

Castiel went very still, his eyes narrowed with wariness. “Why?”

Dean drove his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I’m failing Potions, that’s why. I need your help. I’ve got Exceeds or Outstanding in everything bar that.”

Castiel tightened his grip on his books. “Why should I help you? I thought you were just biding your time here until you could take off and join some international quidditch team or whatever pipe dream you have this week?” His voice was bitingly cold.

“Look, I don’t want to have this conversation here.” Dean glanced around, his face flushing slightly, trying to tamp down the flare of temper that Castiel was stirring in him.

“Then we are done? Good. I have to get to class.” Castiel started walking down the steps to head for the courtyard.

“I want to be an Auror.” The confession tumbled out desperately. Dean gripped the back of his neck as he always did when nerves churned his gut.

Castiel stiffened, hesitated. He turned and studied the tall, handsome young man who was popular with everyone, Prefect of Slytherin, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. “You? An Auror?” Castiel said doubtfully.

Dean swallowed, rammed his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants. He stared at the ground, red still staining his cheeks.

Castiel retraced his steps and moved back to stand beside him. "Why do you want to be an Auror?”

Dean’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into whiteknuckled fists. “During the Second Wizard War my parents were rounded up by Death Eaters. They were put into Azkhaban. They never came back.” He refused to look up. “I don’t want that to ever happen to anyone’s parents. Ever. I want to help make sure it wont.”

“Alright,” Castiel said coolly, after a brief silence where he seemed to consider Dean’s words. “Arrange for a classroom. I will help.”

Dean looked up then, green eyes clashing with blue. “You will?” He couldn’t keep the note of gratitude out of his voice.

“Don’t make a deal out of it, Winchester.” Castiel shifted his books, regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, and headed off.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had more to say. Will extend another chapter. Maybe two.

“Where are you going?” Garth drawled from his position by the fire where he was playing poker with a group of Slytherins. And winning by the looks of it.

Dean hesitated. Normally he would have joined them, supplementing his income, but he had an appointment with a Ravenclaw who had given him a chance, one chance and he wasn’t going to blow it.

“I ..uhh… have to meet with a teacher. About potions.”

Garth grimaced. “Yeah. I’m still trying to the get the smell out of my robes.”

“That’s not your robes, Fitzgerald,” Dean snarked. “That’s all your natural pungent stench.”

Garth grinned widely. “Amazing you can detect it over your own putrid smell, Winchester.”

Dean flipped him off and headed out.

Castiel was already waiting for him, a stack of books to one side, the one in front of him open to the potion they had made in their first lesson.

“Hey.” Dean said quietly, closing the door behind him.

“Good, you are on time.” Castiel gestured to the wooden board, the knife and the ginger root resting in all its grey lumpiness. “Wit Sharpening Potion.”

“Didn’t we do this one already?”

Castiel looked at him sharply. “Did you pass?”

Dean screwed up his nose. “No.”

“Then we are doing Wit Sharpening Potion.” Castiel’s mouth curved a little. “Could be useful for you, Winchester.”

Dean picked up the knife, flipped it in hand, and grinned. “Are you calling me witless, Novak? Harsh. Very harsh.”

Castiel cleared his throat, and stared pointedly at the ingredients. “I have a theory as to why you are failing.”

Dean started roughly chopping the ginger. “Oh? I’m waiting with bated breath to hear your insights on my lack of success.”

Castiel reached over, put both his hands over Dean’s, carefully avoiding the knife. “Stop.”

Dean went still. He met Castiel’s gaze. “What?”

Castiel carefully extracted the knife from Dean’s hands, and moved to stand beside him. “You rush. You wish to get to the result without considering the journey.” He spoke softly as he demonstrated the careful, precise method for slicing the ginger. “Each step needs to be exact. Each moment prepared.” His slices coiled over one another, so thin they were almost transparent. He gave the knife back.

Dean bit his lower lip.

He took the knife. Castiel’s hand folded back around his, guiding the process.

Dean’s toes curled unconsciously in his shoes, and he was grateful for the semi-darkness of the room. He was pretty sure he was blushing. “I got it, man, I got it.” He didn’t mean to sound quite so irritated, but Castiel shifted away, his expression tight.

The rest of the process went much the same way. Dean demonstrating how he did it, Castiel pointing out where he went wrong. But when the dark orange fluid swirled in the cauldron, Dean had to admit that Castiel was a patient teacher. He wiped his hands on a paper towel, ridding himself of the remnants of the armadillo bile.

He clapped Castiel on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks.”

Castiel closed his potions book, setting it on top of the rest. He gathered all of the instruments they had used and set them in the nearby sink. “You are welcome, Dean.”

They had Potions again on Friday. When Dean read through the ingredient list and process for Shrinking Solution, he had Castiel’s calm voice murmuring in his mind. Little hints on how to deal with chopping, mincing, stirring.

When he slid the carefully sliced caterpiller into the pink liquid, and Garth stirred it carefully with a look of hope on his face, he glanced up to see Castiel watching him. Dean tipped him a wink. Castiel merely gave him a brief nod before finishing off his notes.

The pink turned to the required green and Dean let out a breath of relief.

“Good.” Professor Redman strolled past, peering into the cauldron. “Well done, Winchester, Fitzgerald. About time you actually got one right.”

Dean grinned broadly.

When he met Castiel’s gaze next time, he gave him a thumbs up.

This time Castiel returned the smile, albeit faintly.

The Quidditch game was in full flight. Dean, as a Chaser, was constantly on the move, calling out plays to his team. The Gryffindor team were a tight bunch, hard to score against, but Dean was determined.

The stands were filled for this first game of the season, and as he caught the quaffle from a team mate, he swung around and headed for the goals. The Gryffindor keeper, Kevin, was lightning fast. Dean and his Chasers were struggling to get anything past him.

“Dean! Duck!”

He laid flat as a Gryffindor beater smashed the Bludger toward him. He dared glance up then, saw he had a clear run to the goal and kicked his broom into gear. Kevin saw him coming and grinned.

It was like an intense game of chicken. One of his Beaters flanked him. He could see Jo, another Chaser keeping up, just over the other side of the field. When he drew close, he flicked the Quaffle to Jo. Kevin’s smile faded a little as Dean continued forward, a devilish look in his eyes. He jerked his head toward Jo, then back to Dean, a moment of uncertainty on his face.

Dean swung wide, Jo tossed him the Quaffle, and he slung it through the goal while Kevin reached out, just missing the ball with his fingertips.

Dean threw his hands up in celebration as a cheer went up.

“Dean! DUCK!” He heard Jo’s howl. But it was too late. The Bludger collected him solidly on the skull.

The world went black.

When he came around, he was in the infirmary. He opened his eyes and stared at the unfortunately familiar ceiling. He had been in here a time or two since joining the Quidditch team.

He raised his head and immediately groaned. His head exploded with stars.

“Dean?” the voice laden with concern came from his left. He cautiously turned his head.

Castiel sat in a chair beside his bed, with a large leather-bound tome in his lap.

“Heya, Cas.” His voice was slightly slurred. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Ensuring that you haven’t lost too many brain cells after taking that ball to the head.”

“Bludger.”

“Whatever.”

“Probably lost a few.” Dean blinked sleepily. “Makes me only as smart as you then.”

“Hilarious, Winchester,” Castiel said drily, setting aside the book.

“So you were worried?”

“Your skull is hard as rock.” Castiel stared down at him, arms crossed over his chest. “I was more concerned about the dent you put in the school’s sporting equipment.”

Dean laughed, then immediately regretted it. He raised a hand to his head and groaned. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Rest.” Castiel patted his shoulder.

Dean reached for his hand. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel squeezed his hand.

Things faded into fuzzy shadows as Dean went back to sleep.

When Dean walked into the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, he was hailed a hero. Slytherin had won the game apparently. Madame Abbott hadn’t given him details, and it was with excitement that everyone was filling him in on the details.

After the Bludger had slugged him, he had fallen off his broom. Before the referee had a chance to respond, someone had cast levitation on him, and slowed his descent to the ground. Jo leaned over and murmured quietly in his ear.

“It wasn’t one of the teachers. I heard them talking about it.”

Dean frowned.

He scanned the room, in particular the table of black and blue. When he found the face he was looking for he stared thoughtfully for a moment.

As though sensing he was being watched, Castiel looked up and met his gaze steadily for several long moments.

“Dean.”

He felt the nudge at his side as Jo tried to get his attention.

“Dean!” she said more forcefully.

Dean broke Castiel’s gaze and turned to look at Jo.

“What?” he snapped.

“You were staring into space. You sure it was just a knock to the head? It hasn’t turned you stupid, has it?”

Dean scowled down at his empty plate. “I’m fine.”

When he looked up again, Castiel was gone.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this okay? It's turning out longer than I expected.

Vacation time at Hogwarts at Christmas was quiet. Dean’s guardian, his father’s brother, had gone away to Germany, and he had elected to stay at the school, rather than spend it entirely on his own. It was when he went down to breakfast Christmas morning that he realised how few people there were remaining behind.

Snow swirled against the windows outside.

The Slytherin table held maybe a dozen students. Dean seated himself at the senior students end, nodding to a few of the others who were just heading out. The food was still warm, though considerably less of it.

He glanced up as someone paused in front of him.

“Good morning, Dean. You decided not to go home?”

Like everyone else, Castiel wasn’t wearing his school robes. He had on neatly pressed jeans, a dark sweater and his hair was a tumbled mess.

Dean couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, Cas. Nah. No one to go home to this year. You?”

He couldn’t miss the glances thrown at them by the other students at his table and was determined to ignore it. He was on vacation, damn it. He wasn’t a prefect right now. He could talk to a Ravenclaw if he felt like it.

“I wished to remain here to study.”

“You can’t study all the time, Novak.” Dean chomped a mouthful of bacon.

“I might take in some light reading a little later?” Castiel replied drily.

“Ugh.” Dean shuddered. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet.”

“Join me?” Dean gestured at the seat opposite him.

Castiel studied the other Slytherins at the table, who were watching the two of them with speculation, and the handful of Ravenclaws at his own table “I don’t know.” Castiel tucked his hands into his pockets.

Dean leaned forward. “Cas? It’s Christmas. Goodwill to all wizards, right?”

Castiel’s mouth curved in a slight smile.

“Come on.” Dean wheedled. “I will even attempt to be charming.”

“Don’t strain yourself.” Castiel sat and swung his legs under the table. He started yanking items onto his plate. Bacon. Toast. Potato cakes. He picked up a chunk of potato and bit down, licking his thumb in the process. He glanced up to catch Dean watching him. “What?”

“I’m impressed. You broke the rules.”

“Rules?” Castiel tilted his head in confused query.

“Sitting with a Slytherin. Isn’t that against the rules of the other houses?” Dean grinned irrepressibly, green eyes sparkling with mischief.

And despite himself, Castiel smiled a little. “Much has changed since Harry Potter’s day.”

“Not that much,” Dean said, a little flatly.

Castiel hesitated, then dropped his gaze to his plate. “You are not as bad as I thought, Dean.”

“Thanks.”

Castiel looked up again, a frown on his face. “I said that poorly.” He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “I just meant I like talking to you. I have enjoyed it.”

Dean huffed a soft laugh. “Got it.”

Castiel cleared his throat, and picked up a slice of bacon. He chewed contemplatively and the two young men sat in silence.

“Hey, Cas? I was going to go into Hogsmeade later this afternoon. Want to go with?”

“Sure.”

Dean grinned. He felt like he had won. He wasn’t sure what. But it was a win.

Three Broomsticks was buzzing with warmth and conversation. With butterbeers in hand, Dean and Castiel sat in a small table in a secluded corner.

“I don’t think I have been here since I was a third year.” Castiel stared around him.

“Really?” Dean was surprised.

Castiel shrugged. “I never needed to.”

“It’s not about need, Cas.” Dean leaned forward. “It’s about having fun. Relaxing.”

Castiel pursed his lips a little. “I want to do well. I want to…” He paused.

“What do you want to do?”

“I wish to join the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, brows raised in surprised. “Huh.”

“What?” Castiel’s hands tightened on his tankard.

“I expected you to say...like...teacher. Or maybe...into the Ministry.”

Castiel scowled. His jaw clenched at Dean’s words.

Dean reached out and touched his wrist. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, Cas. You are the smartest guy I know. You can do anything, I reckon.”

A dark flush coloured Castiel’s cheek. “I don’t-”

Dean gripped his hand tightly, before releasing it just as abruptly as a voice interrupted their discussion.

“Winchester! What’re you doing here?” An arrogant looking youth pushed his way through the crowd.

Dean tilted his head and looked up at Cole Trenton, one of the more abrasive Slytherin students. “Enjoying time away from prison, Trenton.” He leaned back, propped his foot up on his opposite knee and leaned back nonchalantly.

Cole studied Castiel with a smirk on his lips. “With the resident nerd? Definitely slumming it, buddy.”

“Careful, Trenton. I don’t like people talking shit about the guy who saved my ass.” Dean’s smile turned sharp, and he made a show of checking his watch. “Will you look at that. Time to be getting back. Have a good holiday.” He drew up to his full six feet and looked down at the shorter man.

Cole glanced between Dean and Castiel, and took a step back. “Sure. Yeah.”

Dean strode for the door. Castiel tapped his fingertip thoughtfully against the rim of his tankard. He stood up and tugged his jacket from the back of his chair. He studied Cole’s expression, tilting his head a little as he pulled on the warm wool. When Castiel shifted to follow Dean, Cole stepped into his path, challenge in his eyes. Castiel paused. The faintest smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“Move,” he said simply.

Cole snarled. “You are out of your depth, Novak. Stay away from…hrkk.” He strangled into silence as the point of a wand nudged the flesh under his chin.

Castiel leaned forward and whispered. “I have no issue using magic right now to deal with a little twerp like you.”

“You wouldn’t...hk.”

The wand pressed a little deeper.

“I wasn’t always a wizard, Trenton.” Castiel coiled a fist into Cole’s jacket. “Think about that.”

Cole swallowed and visibly retreated before the force of the icy blue gaze directed at him. 

Castiel released him, lowered his wand and nodded politely. “Goodnight, Cole.”

Dean was waiting for him at the door with a thoughtful expression, tugging on his gloves. There was a light snowfall as they headed back up the road toward Hogwarts. Neither spoke for some time.

Dean broke the silence first. “You can handle yourself.”

Castiel shrugged in the depths of his coat, his chin tucked into the collar of his coat. “I can convince others I can handle myself.”

“No.” Dean reached out with his gloved hand and drew Castiel to a stop. “You really can. Can’t you?”

Castiel toed the ankle deep snow. “I wasn’t born into a wizarding family, Dean.”

Dean waited, watching the snowflakes catch on Castiel’s eyelashes.

Castiel sighed in some annoyance. “My dad was a cop back in London.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “A real cop?”

“As opposed to a fake one?” Castiel snapped.

Dean scowled. “I have only read about them.”

Castiel tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “He taught me how to look after myself and when I was told I was a wizard he wanted to be very certain I didn’t just have magic to protect myself with.”

“No wonder you want to be a cop here,” Dean said in no small amount of wonderment.

“Best of both worlds.” Castiel shrugged again.

“It really was you who cast that spell when I got knocked out at that game, wasn’t it?”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“Cas?”

Castiel met his gaze.

“Thank you. You saved my life.”

“I just got there first.The teachers would have -”

“It matters you got there first.” Dean held out his hand toward Castiel.

Castiel gripped it in return. “Don’t worry about it, Winchester.”

“I owe you one, Novak.”

They stood there, a little longer than is prudent in a snowstorm, shaking...holding...hands. When the distant sound of student chatter was heard, Dean cleared his throat and dropped Castiel’s hand.

Castiel clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling in the Ravenclaw dormitories. He glanced to one side where his owl’s empty cage sat beside the bed. On the small bedside table was a small wrapped gift. The tag simply said ‘Dean’. He grimaced. Were they really even friends?

**  
**Dean sat with his back to his headboard, reading a novel. The dorm was empty. The dog eared book had been dug out of his trunk just for the night since no one else was here. He glanced to the bedside table, currently filled with the detritus of his days - notes, practice gear, lolly wrappers. And a poorly wrapped gift. The tag had ‘Cas’ in the scrawl of his handwriting. Tomorrow was Christmas Day. Cas would be okay getting a gift from him, wouldn’t he?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And complete. Thank you for reading :)

The snow fell softly on Christmas morning. Dean stood on the Viaduct, staring out over the chasm. He had planned to move swiftly across toward the Great Hall, but the silence held him. He leaned his palms on the stone balustrade that had been replaced since the attack on Hogwarts all those years ago.

It was these little pieces of history that cut him deep on days like today. Days that brought reminders of what he didn’t have. He bowed his head, and leaned on his forearms.

He probably shouldn’t have been surprised when a hand touched him lightly on the shoulder, but lost in his thoughts, he jerked upright and met the concerned gaze of Castiel.

“Are you alright?”

Dean swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was raw. “Don’t worry about it, Cas.”

Dean found his shoulder still clasped in a strong grip. He could feel the warmth from Castiel, despite the cold that fell around them, and he wanted to gravitate toward it. But he held himself still. He didn’t resist reaching up and gripping Castiel’s wrist though. Not to pull away, just to borrow strength.

“Worry about another person is not something you can determine, my friend,” Cas’ voice was gentle.

Dean sighed out a breath that coiled white and smokey between them. “Sometimes holidays...suck.”

He stiffened when Castiel reached up with chilly fingers and curved his hand over Dean’s cheek. Turned out it wasn’t unpleasant and when he studied Castiel’s expression, he saw concern. And he was surprised at how much it meant. For that reason he stepped back out of range, and instantly regretted bringing the look of hurt into Castiel’s eyes.

“It’s cold out here,” Castiel said stiffly, shoving his bare hands into his pockets.

Dean grimaced, and nodded silently.

Castiel stalked through the pristine snow toward the Great Hall. Dean rubbed his brow and followed.

They sat at separate tables.

Dean didn’t eat much, barely choking down some plain toast. He didn’t join in the conversation with the other Slytherins at the table, just prodded the congealing eggs. Movement at the nearby Ravenclaw table had him glancing up. Castiel had stood up.

Blue eyes briefly met green before darting away.

Dean stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Not hungry. I’m gonna head off. See you back in the tower.”

He hurried after Castiel.

“Cas. Wait.” He caught up with him on the other side of the viaduct. Ravenclaw Tower was on the other side of the courtyard and he didn’t want this conversation overseen or overheard. “Cas!” He called louder when he realised the guy wasn’t going to stop.

Castiel turned, his face schooled into impassivity. “Yes, Dean?”

Dean fumbled the gift out of his pocket. He thrust it out toward Castiel. “Merry Christmas.”

Castiel scowled down at the poorly wrapped rectangle, looked up at Dean, then back down at the cheerful paper.

“I hope you like it,” Dean continued lamely, scrubbing his hands through the short spikes of his hair. When it was obvious Castiel wasn’t going to say anything, he took one step, then a second backwards, turning to head toward the Slytherin tower stairs.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. Without a word Castiel slid his hand down Dean’s arm, covered Dean’s hand with his, lifted it and put a small, perfectly wrapped box into his palm. His lips faintly, very briefly quirked, and he fled.

Dean sat on his bed and stared down at the box in his hand. He tugged off the note and opened it. It said, very simply: ‘You will become an Auror, and when you do, I hope this will protect you. Yours, Cas.’ It was a small medallion, engraved with a five-pointed star, surrounded by flames. It was threaded onto a leather strip. Dean swallowed against the burning tears that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks.

He pulled the necklace over his head and tucked it below his shirt. He pressed his palm against the cool metal.

He hesitated only a few moments, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and grabbing his coat.

Castiel sat on the end of his bed and shook his head at the wrapping job. It was clearly Dean’s effort, with all it’s slapdash enthusiasm and overabundance of tape. He started picking it off, automatically trying to save the paper, then just gave up.

Revealing a battered palm sized leather-bound journal, Castiel tossed aside the paper and undoing the long leather strings holding it closed, he opened the cover. In Dean’s scrawling hand, the first page was a dedication to him.

‘Merry Christmas, Cas. I found this and thought you might like it. Thank you for seeing who I am. Dean.’

Castiel stilled. He turned the page. Tiny writing, close together, was difficult to read at first. Interspersed with sketches of symbols, notes in the margins, it looked like a mess. It took him a few minutes to realise what this was.

He flipped the cover closed again and studied the leather engraving he had ignored at first. He traced his fingertips over the name, almost obscured by age.

Morris Naylor. He knew the name. Anyone who knew anything about Hit Wizards knew the name. Morris Naylor had hunted Death Eaters after the events of the Second War and brought them to justice.

This journal was one of his from before that time, maybe just after the First War. Who knew how long? The wizard had died two years ago. How had Dean got his hands on it? It detailed spells. Hideouts. Curses. Drawings of creatures he had never seen before. When he finished his first skim through, his hands were shaking when he set the book down.

Too precious to leave, he tucked the journal into the pocket of the jacket he hadn’t removed and he stood up.

They met in the courtyard, the lightest fall of snowflakes patterning their coats before melting.

Dean clutched the symbol in his right fist. Cas kept his hands in his pockets, one curved around the book. Their breaths came on puffs of steam as they studied one another hesitantly.

Castiel broke the silence first.

“Dean. Thank you. This book.” He took it from his pocket. “Where did you find it?”

Dean toed his boot into the snow. “It was mine. Well, my mum’s first. But it was in a whole pile of stuff that I got after...after…” He swallowed, unable to look up at first. “I don’t know how she got it, or why.”

“Dean. I can’t take this. It’s your mother’s.” Castiel stepped forward, clutching the book, holding it out.

Dean laid his hand on top of the book, on top of Castiel’s hands. “I want you to have it.”

“Dean…” Castiel’s voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes a little stricken.

“Thank you for this…” Dean gestured at the talisman that gleamed on his shirt front. “I will always wear it.”

“Dean.” Castiel now held the book against his chest.

Dean crowded his space a little. “Cas? I gotta say something.”

Castiel devoured his expression. “What?”

“Look. The thing is. I like you. More than a friend. I’m okay with it if you aren’t interested or can’t be interested. But I wanted to be honest. Wanted to tell you how I felt.”

Castiel’s mouth had fallen open in surprise. He stared wordlessly at Dean.

“Shit.” Dean swore. “Damn it. I really have screwed up. I kind of hoped that -”

It was Dean’s turn to lose the power of speech as Castiel reached out, gripped the collar of Dean’s coat and yanked him forward.

It was awkward at first, but soon they melted into each other. Hands diving into hair, sliding around to grip the back of a jacket and pull closer. Warmth sharing warmth, and eyes drifting closed.

It took many long minutes and a sharp order from a teacher to break them apart.   
“Mister Novak and Mister Winchester, do try for some decorum will you!”

They sprang apart guilty and flushed.

“P-professor Longbottom…” Castiel stuttered. “S-sorry, sir.”

The tall professor, well known as a hero of the Battle of Hogwarts, was glaring at the two young men as he strode across the courtyard. He drew to a halt before the students and narrowed his eyes.

“In the spirit of Christmas, I’m going to pretend I didn’t see the two of you setting a poor example for the rest of the student body by not having the sense to come in out of a snowstorm. Now, you are both graduating in a couple of months, so do try to restrain yourselves and set a better example as a prefect, Winchester.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean muttered, staring at his feet.

“Good luck in your exams, both of you. For goodness sake, make sure he passes potions, Novak.”

“Will do, sir.”

They waited until the Professor was headed for his beloved greenhouses.

“So, you are interested?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“I should think that were perfectly obvious by now, Winchester.”

Dean smiled. “Feel like a ..walk, Novak?” He held his hand out to Castiel.

Castiel took it and gave Dean a broad smile of his own.

Dean was dazzled, and leaned in, kissing Castiel again.

**Epilogue - Ten years later**

Castiel filed his paperwork and scrubbed a hand through the messy strands of his hair.

He looked up as Hannah came into the office, her lips slicked bright red under the jaunty brim of her pointed hat.

“Castiel,” she greeted him warmly. “All done for the day?”

“Yeah.”

“Heading home?”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Dean is home tonight.”

Hannah’s mouth formed an oh of surprise. “Really? How long has he been gone?”

“Six months.” Castiel sighed mournfully.

Hannah patted him lightly on the cheek before leaning in and kissing him briefly on his cheek.

“Well, well. Do I have something to be worried about?” The familiar voice interrupted them.

Castiel practically pushed Hannah aside and broke into a run.

Whispers followed him.

“Wow, that’s Dean Winchester.”

“The auror?”  
“Yeah.”

“Wasn’t he the one who - “

“Yep.”

“And took down that -”

“That’s him.”

“And Novak is his…”

“Husband. Yep.”

“How long has this been going on and why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“We assumed you knew. They have been together since Hogwarts.”

“Romance for the ages, boys.” Hannah adjusted her hat, grinned at the two whisperers and apparated away.

Castiel pressed his palms to Dean’s face, and studied the weariness, the old scars and new. The longer hair. And touched the talisman now secured on an enchanted cord around his neck.

“It kept me safe,” Dean said in a quiet rumble.

“You came back to me.” Castiel soothed his thumbs over Dean’s lean jaw. His guy had lost weight this time, he could almost feel his ribs beneath the travel worn robes. “Let me take you home.”

Dean tightened his arms around his husband. “Wherever you are is home.”

“Charming as that sentiment is…” Castiel leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “We aren’t going to have the reunion I had planned on the floor of my office.” He kissed the cheekbone that charmingly flushed. He still loved that after all this time, he could still make Dean blush. He gripped Dean’s hand.

“I have a day off tomorrow, too.” He mentioned casually, heading for the Floo Network.

“Good.” Dean yanked him close as they waited in line, not even noticing the wide eyed stares that following his path. “I missed you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Castiel stepped up first. He grinned wickedly at Dean. “See you at home.” He turned. “Elysian.”

Dean sighed happily. He really was home.


End file.
